


Flowers from Me to You

by emigmatic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beta Read, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hanahaki AU, Hanahaki Disease, Idiots in Love, Iwaizumi Hajime Is So Done, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Angst, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oikawa Tooru Being an Idiot, POV Alternating, Pining Iwaizumi Hajime, Pining Oikawa Tooru, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emigmatic/pseuds/emigmatic
Summary: He blinked. “This has to be some kind of joke.”“It’s not a joke, Hajime. This is serious!” his mother scolded. “Who is it? Who are you in love with that you think you can’t have?”“No o—” a face flitted through his mind. He swallowed thickly.“There’s someone, I know there is!” She was gripping his wrist tightly now, panicking. “Please, tell me.”“I…I’m not sure.” Iwaizumi closed his eyes. There was no way. How…?“Hajime!” she pleaded.“Oikawa,” he murmured. “I’m in love with Oikawa.”Or, the one where Iwaizumi and Oikawa have hanahaki for each other.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 29
Kudos: 443





	Flowers from Me to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cam T.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cam+T.), [LadyNoodleoo00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNoodleoo00/gifts).



> This started as a short little one-shot for Iwa's birthday. 48 hours later, it was a full-blown, dramatic, complex fic.  
> Overall, I think it turned out pretty good, considering I wrote most of it in the hours around midnight. The credit for that goes to Cam, my blessed beta reader who kept me in line and whacked me upside the head because I kept putting periods inside parentheses. Without her help, well, this would be twice as long and half as good.  
> 

The first time it happened, Iwaizumi Hajime was sixteen years old.

He was sitting in class, trying to figure out the area of a sphere, when he felt a tickle in his throat. He cleared his throat—hoping it would ease the discomfort. It didn’t.

He released a light cough. The ticklish sensation subsided.

A few minutes passed and the sensation returned, although now it was less of a tickle and more of a sharp pain. He coughed a little harder and rubbed his throat. It disappeared again.

Oikawa looked away from the girl he was flirting with—because math was boring—and pushed a water bottle towards his friend. Then, of course, he promptly returned to flirting.

Iwaizumi eyed the water cautiously. It seemed unopened, but he wouldn’t put it past Oikawa to give him an opened bottle. The last thing he wanted to do was drink from the same bottle his friend used after making out with some nameless chick.

The feeling returned with a fury, and this time he couldn’t stifle the hacking coughs. It felt like something was stuck in his throat, constricting it so he couldn’t breathe. His hand gripped his pencil so hard it cracked, but the noise was lost among his wheezing.

The whole class was staring at him and the teacher rushed to his side in horror. “Iwaizumi,” she soothed, grabbing the water bottle from his desk. “Just take a breath; have some water.”

“Can’t…I…” he squeaked out between coughs. His lungs burned and his eyes were starting to water.

The teacher was at a loss of what to do. She grabbed the closest student, who happened to be Oikawa, and pulled him over. “Oikawa, please take Iwaizumi to the infirmary.”

Oikawa’s eyes were the size of quarters as he helped Iwaizumi to his feet and guided him down the hall. “Iwa-chan, try to breathe through your nose.”

Iwaizumi tried, but the discomfort only got worse and soon his whole body was convulsing with each cough. The lump in his throat was rising; he could _feel_ something in the back of his throat.

When they got to the infirmary the nurse was nowhere to be seen. In a bit of a panic, Oikawa dumped Iwaizumi on a bed and ran off to find her.

His coughing got worse, impossibly worse, and now he was starting to feel lightheaded. But the lump, whatever it was, was pressing against his tongue. He mustered his strength and gave one last hack, dislodging the lump. It fell out of his mouth onto the palm of his hand.

It was a white flower petal.

Iwaizumi stared at it as he gulped in lungfuls of air, finally able to breathe clearly. How the hell did that get stuck in his throat?

Oikawa’s voice reverberated in the hallway with the squeak of tennis shoes, and Iwaizumi stuffed the petal in his pocket. “…choking on something. He can’t breathe!”

The nurse burst into the room as Iwaizumi cleared his throat, his breathing evened out. She whirled on Oikawa, her voice squeaky with panic, “I thought you said he couldn’t breathe!”

“He couldn’t!”

“Well, it looks like he’s breathing just fine to me!” The nurse sighed in disgust. “Kids these days…”

Oikawa gazed at Iwaizumi, waiting for an explanation. He didn’t like to look like a fool in front of pretty, young nurses.

“I, uh,” he started brilliantly, “I choked on my gum. But I spit it out and I’m okay now.”

“Gum? In class?” She shook her head. “That’s a quick way to get in trouble. Let me listen to your breathing and make sure you’re all clear, then you two need to go back to class.”

Iwaizumi inhaled and exhaled on her commands. The stethoscope was cold, even through his button up shirt. He averted his eyes from Oikawa, who was looking at him skeptically.

They both knew he never chewed gum in class. So why lie?

“You sound alright to me. You’re free to go.” The nurse frowned and went back to her desk. “But don’t chew gum in class again, or else I’ll tell your teacher!”

“I—I won’t,” Iwaizumi promised, and hopped off the bed. He grabbed the cup of water from Oikawa’s hand and took a long swig. The cold water made him flinch, but he continued to choke it down. His throat stung even more now. He dropped the cup, empty, into the trash. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa mumbled as they started down the hallway back to class. “Why’d you lie, Iwa-chan?”

“Huh?”

“You never chew gum in class.”

Iwaizumi shoved his hands in his pockets. The petal brushed his finger. “What, like I was gonna tell her I choked on a ball of snot?”

“Ew, Iwa-chan! That’s gross!”

“I know.” Iwaizumi grinned.

Oikawa didn’t ask any more questions, and Iwaizumi didn’t say anything more. Why had he lied again? Because it was weird, and no one would believe him? He wasn’t sure.

The teacher greeted them, and he sat back down in his seat. An unfinished math problem glared up at him. He grit his teeth and got back to work, forgetting about the white flower petal resting in his pocket.

A few months passed and the incident had been forgotten. Iwaizumi occasionally had a scratchy feeling in the back of his throat, but he didn’t have another coughing fit again until his second year of high school.

It was February 14th, his least favorite day of the year. He hated it for several reasons, but mostly because Oikawa spent the following week flaunting all the chocolate he had been gifted and going on dates with different girls. Oikawa was absolutely insufferable that week, and it only took two years of that treatment for Iwaizumi to get sick of it. He would find all sorts of excuses to avoid Oikawa during that time, although it really wasn’t difficult because Oikawa was usually busy with back-to-back-to-back-to-back dates.

This year, he didn’t even have to try, because he was home sick with the flu the whole week. Or at least, that’s what he told Oikawa.

>>> Iwa-chan still isn’t better?

>>> No.

>>> I guess I’ll just have to eat your chocolate for you! What a shame, you got so much this year… :P

>>> Go ahead, Fattykawa. Maybe you’ll be big enough to take up the whole court and do receives by yourself.

>>> Mean! Hope you feel better :)

>>> Thanks.

>>> Iwa-chan must be really sick to say that…

>>> Shut up. I’m trying to sleep.

His phone dinged again, but he couldn’t look at it. A coughing fit shook through his body as he stumbled out of bed towards the bathroom. His mom followed him in, murmuring prayers under her breath.

Iwaizumi bent over the sink as flower petals fell past his lips. After a few minutes of hacking, he straightened and wiped his mouth with a tissue.

He and his mother stared at the white petals, flecked with red droplets of blood, in horror. Once was scary, but twice? This was more than a coincidence.

“Hajime…” her hand touched his shoulder. “Who is it?”

“What?”

“Who are you in love with?”

Iwaizumi stared at her incredulously. “I…what?”

“This is Hanahaki Disease. I’ve heard of it before, but I never thought…” she trailed off. “People who have unrequited love can get it. It starts with petals and gets worse.”

Petals. Like the one he coughed up at the end of his first year in high school?

“If you don’t get it fixed it…” her voice was barely above a whisper, “…it can kill you.”

He blinked. “This has to be some kind of joke.”

“It’s not a joke, Hajime. This is serious!” his mother scolded. “Who is it? Who are you in love with that you think you can’t have?”

“No o—” a face flitted through his mind. He swallowed thickly.

“There’s someone, I know there is!” She was gripping his wrist tightly now, panicking. “Please, tell me.”

“I…I’m not sure.” Iwaizumi closed his eyes. There was no way. How…?

“Hajime!” she pleaded.

“Oikawa,” he murmured. “I’m in love with Oikawa.”

It wasn’t something he had ever even thought of before, and based on the shocked face she was making, his mother hadn’t thought of it either. But as soon as he said it aloud, he knew it was true.

“O—Oikawa Tooru?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to nod.

“I see. Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised—”

“You’re not mad? Or disgusted?” Iwaizumi looked at her.

She tilted her head. “What, should I be? I always had a feeling, Hajime. You put up with him all these years, and he’s a handful. I’m just sad it had to come to this for you to realize it.”

He turned away from her and glared down at the white flower petals in the sink.

“Me, too.”

* * *

Oikawa Tooru slammed the door of his locker shut and took another gulp of water. The air in the locker room felt like it was boiling from the summer heat. He hoped he had enough money to buy ice cream with Iwaizumi.

A bubble of concern welled in his chest. Iwaizumi had been having coughing fits—bad ones—randomly for the past few months. He told everyone it was some weird lung infection he caught, but this story never sat right with Oikawa. Maybe it was the fact that the teachers made him go to the infirmary on his own even though he could barely walk, or the terrified looks the staff made when Iwaizumi left the room. Or maybe it was because it had happened while they were hanging out at Oikawa’s house once, and afterwards, when Oikawa went to use the bathroom, he found a flower petal on the floor next to the sink. He thought nothing of it at the time, but later realized it was out of place. His mother rarely kept flowers in the house, and she certainly never kept white flowers in the house.

Or maybe he was just overthinking things because he was worried about his best friend.

“Iwa-chan!” he called, exiting the locker room while digging through his wallet. “Let’s go buy—oh!”

Iwaizumi turned away from the blushing girl in front of him and gave Oikawa a dirty look. “Do you mind, Trashykawa?”

“Oh my,” Oikawa grinned and winked at the girl, who flushed an even deeper shade of red. “I’ll wait outside. Good luck~!”

He could feel Iwaizumi’s glare on his back as he skipped away. “Finally,” he said to himself. “It’s about time that guy got himself a girlfriend.”

Something caught in his throat and he coughed a little. Matsukawa was up ahead.

“Hey, Mattsun—” Oikawa coughed again, harder. He cleared his throat. “Ma—”

Matsukawa pulled the straw from his juice box out of his mouth. “Don’t talk while you run, Oikawa.”

“I—” he choked and his shoulders spasmed.

“Oikawa?” Matsukawa steadied him while he coughed.

There was a lump in his throat. It tickled his throat and he doubled over, resting his hands on his knees while he fought for air. His coughing turned into hacking, an awful sound that drew the attention of a teacher.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, he just started coughing.” Matsukawa bent down to look Oikawa in the eye. “Are you okay?”

“Inf—” Oikawa choked out.

The teacher studied him for a second in silence. “Take him to the infirmary.”

Matsukawa nodded and practically dragged Oikawa all the way, as his body was shaking so hard from the coughing fit that he could barely walk.

The nurse took one look at Oikawa and pointed to a bed. “Seriously, these kids…”

Matsukawa eased Oikawa onto the bed before the nurse pushed him away and yanked the curtain closed.

“You can leave now,” she called from the other side.

“But—”

“Leave!”

Matsukawa left the room.

The nurse turned to Oikawa, who was still hacking and wheezing. “Alright, kid, listen to me. You’re choking on something, and I need you to spit it out. Now.”

The lump in his throat rose. He could feel it against the back of his tongue. His lungs were screaming for air, and his skull was pounding.

“Oh, not this again.” The nurse’s cold fingers brushed his skin as she started to massage his neck. “You’re lucky I know how to do this; it makes it end quicker.

With a final cough, Oikawa spat out the thing that was choking him. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he gasped for air and coughed lightly.

“Interesting…” The nurse was staring at the object he had spit out into her hand.

Oikawa’s eyes widened.

A pure, white gardenia petal sat on the palm of her hand.

“What the…” He was a fan of weird things—he’d loved aliens his whole life—but this was _weird._

“That’s what I’d like to know.” She turned the petal over in her hand. “One is rare enough, but two…”

“Two what?”

“Never mind. Here, drink some water.” The nurse passed him a bottle of water and put the petal in a baggy. “I’m going to make a note for your parents. Show them the petal and tell them you need to see a doctor immediately. Oh, and you should just confess.”

“I—what?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll find out eventually. Don’t tell anyone but your parents yet, okay? I don’t want to get bombarded with fake cases.”

“Fake cases of what?” Oikawa was completely lost, which was very unsettling.

“Your doctor will know. Now, go home.” The nurse shoved the note into his hand and walked out of the door, whistling some tune to herself.

Curious, he peeked at the note. In the nurse’s sloppy handwriting, it read, “Your son has Hanahaki Disease. Get him an appointment with your family doctor _immediately.”_

So much for getting ice cream with Iwa-chan.

“Are you okay?” Matsukawa was waiting outside the infirmary for him.

“Ah, Mattsun.” Oikawa tucked the note and baggy in his pocket. He came up with a quick lie, “The nurse says I should be okay, but I need to go home now.”

“Alright,” Matsukawa didn’t look like he was buying it. He was probably grinning too widely. “Oh, Iwaizumi was looking for you. He said—”

“I’ll find him. Bye, Mattsun!” Oikawa ran off, waving behind him.

“—he’s going to get ice cream with a girl,” Matsukawa finished with a sigh and rubbed his face. “He’s going to ruin Iwaizumi’s date…that jerk.”

Oikawa jogged out to the school gates, where Iwaizumi was just disappearing around the corner. “Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi stopped and turned, a look of panic spreading across his face and his body visibly stiffening as he got closer.

“Iwa-chan, let’s—” Oikawa’s breath caught in his throat. Iwaizumi wasn’t alone.

The girl from earlier was staring bashfully at the both of them. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Ah, Iwaizumi-san, I didn’t know—”

“Oikawa, what do you need?” His voice was sharp and cold.

Oikawa winced but forced himself to grin. “Ooh, you have a date? Sorry, I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Oikawa!”

He heard Iwaizumi start after him, but more clearly, he heard the girl squeak out, “Iwaizumi-san…!”

One glance back at the pair told him Iwaizumi wasn’t going to chase after him. He was too busy talking with the girl.

Oikawa’s feet slapped against the sidewalk as he ran, but soon he had to stop because that itch in his throat was back. He panted for breath between coughs. It hurt to even move, but he forced himself to keep going. He needed to get home.

He was coughing so hard he almost fell over when he opened the front door. Actually, he _did_ fall over.

“Tooru?” His mother came out of the kitchen and saw him curled up on the floor, wheezing for air. She dropped to his side immediately. “Tooru!”

A flower petal slipped past his lips and the urge to cough subsided. Oikawa inhaled deeply, relief spreading through him now that he was able to _breathe._ But it didn’t last long, because when his eyes landed on the white petal, dread filled him.

His mother was simply staring at it in shock. He couldn’t blame her. “Tooru…what…”

He sat up, breathing more easily now. “Hanahaki Disease.”

Her face drained of color as she reached out with trembling fingers to touch the petal.

“Or, at least, that’s what the school nurse thinks. But she reads manga and—”

“Tooru, is this a joke?” There was panic in her eyes as she picked up the flower petal. Oikawa saw flecks of red on it.

“I don’t know. Here’s the note and…other petal.” He fished the paper and baggy out of his pocket and handed it to his mom.

She blanched even more; a shade so pale she looked like a ghost.

Oikawa stood up. “I’ve never heard of it before. What is it?”

“Oh, Tooru!” Now _she_ was the one choking, her hand clapping over her mouth as a strangled sob shook her body. “How did this happen?”

“Mom?” He had to admit, he was a little scared. His mom was not the type to cry; in fact, he hadn’t seen her shed a tear since his grandpa’s funeral. If this was bad enough to make his mom cry…

She rose to her feet and hugged him tightly, tears slipping down her face the whole time.

“Mom, what’s going on? You’re kind of scaring me…” Oikawa patted her back gently. He had never been very good at comforting people, and it had caused him plenty of break-ups. But he was at a total loss on how to get his mom to calm down, so he just held her and let her cry.

His mother sobs subsided after a few minutes and pulled away. “Sorry, Tooru. I just…I wish you didn’t have to deal with this.”

“Deal with what?”

“Hanahaki Disease.” At his confused look, she sighed and explained, “It’s a very, _very_ rare disease that people get when they have an unrequited love. It starts with them coughing up…coughing up petals and, unless they undergo surgery or have their love returned, they…”

“They what?” Oikawa leaned closer. “Mom, what happens?”

“They die.”

He inhaled sharply. “Oh.”

She shook her head. “But it’s still early. I’ll call the doctor right now and we can make an appointment for tomorrow. Go lie down in bed and get some rest.”

Oikawa opened his mouth to ask more questions, but she was already grabbing the phone and dialing the doctor’s office. His eyes fell to the ground, to the spot where he had coughed up another flower petal. This was _weird._ Maybe he did need some sleep.

As he headed to his room, his thoughts drifted to what his mother had said. ‘An unrequited love.’ Who was it that he loved unrequitedly?

Akari-san? No, she had slapped him. Yui-chan? No, she had also slapped him. Hina-chan? No, she had slapped him, _twice._

He cut out all the names of girls who had slapped him as he flopped onto his bed. The list shrunk significantly—there were only two left. Kiyoko-san, that cute manager from Karasuno, and Miyami-san, the girl he liked in elementary school who was a good ten years his senior and married. No, it wasn’t either of them.

So, if it wasn’t any of the girls he had gone out with, who was it?

Oikawa’s head started to hurt. He’d think about it later. Right now, he wanted to sleep.

* * *

Iwaizumi stared at the empty desk a few rows away. Apparently, Oikawa was out sick for the day, but he hadn’t spammed anyone with messages about how lonely they’d all feel without him. Iwaizumi hated to admit it, but not getting any messages _did_ make him feel a little lonely.

He swallowed sharply before the petals could even work their way into his throat. 

It’d been a few months since he was diagnosed with Hanahaki Disease. From what he had been told, he had two options: one, he got Oikawa to fall in love with him (highly unlikely and probably impossible) and two, he got surgery to remove the thorny tendrils winding around his lungs. There was a third option—to suck it up until he died—but his parents weren’t too fond of that and argued for the second option. 

But _Iwaizumi_ wasn’t fond of that. The doctor had told him that once the diseased parts were removed, he would no longer be able to love Oikawa. Cheesy as it may sound, that sounded much more painful to Iwaizumi than choking to death on flower petals.

Of course, it’s not like he wanted to die. He was still a high school student; he had his whole life ahead of him. But he also realized that the odds of getting Oikawa Tooru, his childhood best friend who flirted with anything in a skirt, to fall in love with _him_ were about one in a billion. 

Yeah, he was probably screwed. However, if it meant he got to spend the rest of his life by Oikawa’s side, even if it was only as a friend, he would be okay with that.

(The fact that he felt that way was actually much, _much_ scarier to Iwaizumi than coughing up bloody flowers.)

He sighed when the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Usually, Oikawa would come bounding over and jump on top of his desk, pinching his hand and wrinkling his notes. Iwaizumi would make some offhand comment about how Oikawa’s rear was bonier than a graveyard. He would look at him all offended and shriek in response, “Mean, Iwa-chan! Mean!”

“Oi, Iwaizumi, where’s Oikawa?”

Iwaizumi blinked and glanced up at Hanamaki and Matsukawa. “He’s out sick, apparently.”

“Really?” Matsukawa sipped from his juice box—how many of those did he drink a day? “I’m not surprised; he started coughing really bad after practice yesterday and I had to take him to the infirmary.”

At the look of surprise on Iwaizumi’s face, Hanamaki chimed in. “You didn’t know?”

He shook his head. “He seemed fine when I saw him.”

“You saw him?” Matsukawa lowered his juice box.

“Yeah, he chased me down before he went home. But I was going to get ice cream with a girl and—”

“Ice cream with a girl?” Hanamaki interrupted. This detail was way more appealing than Oikawa’s disappearance. _“You went on a date?”_

“I, uh, I guess.” Iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck.

“Good for you!” Hanamaki clapped him on the back, _hard_. He rubbed his hand and leaned forward. “Was she cute?”

Iwaizumi shrugged in response. Matsukawa was looking at him with a strange expression. “What?”

“Nothing. Was it that girl that confessed to you after practice?”

“Oh my god, you received a _confession?”_ Hanamaki looked like some kind of proud dad. “I guess you do have some game after all.”

“Hey, I’ve had girlfriends before,” Iwaizumi grumbled defensively. He could’ve added that they were mostly for show, but he didn’t. “And yes, she was cute. Yes, she confessed. No, we aren’t dating.”

“Oh, come on!” Hanamaki smacked the desk with his hands. “After all that, and you still turned her down? Don’t tell me you have your eye on someone else…”

He couldn’t stop himself from sniffing and averting his gaze.

“Oh my god, _who is it?”_

“There’s no one, idiot.”

“Liar.” Matsukawa slurped loudly on his juice box. “You always sniff when you’re lying.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t argue with that. Oikawa had pointed his tell out to him years ago, but no matter how hard he tried, he never was able to control it. 

“Hey, I’ve got an idea!” Hanamaki grinned mischievously. “How about we arm wrestle? If I win, you tell us!”

“What if I win?”

“Then we—” Matsukawa squinted at him, “—I will buy you ice cream for the rest of the week after practice.”

“Hanamaki, it’s Thursday. We only have two more—”

“And I’ll stop bugging you about your crush.”

Iwaizumi pinched his brow and sighed. “Fine.”

Hanamaki smiled victoriously and started rolling up his sleeves. “Prepare to lose!”

“Makki, you’re the one who always loses.” Matsukawa crumpled up his empty juice box.

“Aren’t you supposed to support me, Matsukawa!?” Hanamaki looked at him in betrayal. “Don’t you wanna know who his crush is?”

Iwaizumi chuckled as Matsukawa shrugged. “He knows who the winner is, Hanamaki, and you’re about to find out for yourself.”

The boys gripped each other's hands. A couple classmates looked on in amusement as Matsukawa counted them down, sounding awfully bored. “Three, two, one, go.”

Five seconds later, Hanamaki’s hand was pinned against the desk. 

“I win,” Iwaizumi said, giving them a rare smile. “Although, it did take two seconds longer than usual.”

“Jerk.” Hanamaki rubbed his now sore hand. “Fine, I’ll quit nagging you about your crush…for now.”

“And you’ll buy me ice cream.”

“And I’ll buy you ice cream.”

“Ah, Makki, buy me ice cream, too.”

“Buy your own ice cream, Matsukawa!”

They started bickering and Iwaizumi watched on in silence. He sure had some pretty weird friends, but he wouldn’t change them for the world.

* * *

Oikawa hated doctor’s offices. There was something about them that made his skin crawl and all his hairs stand on end. They were also always chilly, and he wasn’t a big fan of the cold.

“Oikawa Tooru?” A nurse opened a door and called out. Oikawa and his mother rose to their feet. “Come with me. Dr. Fujiwara will see you now.”

They followed her through the door and down a maze of hallways. Finally, she guided them into a room. “Tooru, have a seat on the exam chair and remove your shirt. Dr. Fujiwara will be with you in a moment.”

Oikawa tugged off his t-shirt, shivering as his skin was exposed to the cold air. His mother took his shirt and folded it neatly in her nap. She seemed calm on the surface, but he caught the tremor in her hands as she smoothed out the creases in his shirt; she was more terrified than she let on.

There was a knock on the door and Dr. Fujiwara walked in. He looked to be a man in his late forties, with graying hair and thick glasses. “Hello, I’m Dr. Fujiwara,” he introduced himself with a smile and extended a hand. “You must be our special patient, Tooru.”

Oikawa shook his hand. It was cold. He wiped his hand on his jeans.

Dr. Fujiwara nodded at his mother and took a seat on the rolling chair. “Well, I hear you have an interesting problem. Hanahaki Disease, was it?” Papers rustled as he flipped through notes and charts. “Yes, Hanahaki…very rare. Interesting; we had another confirmed case earlier this year. I hope this isn’t turning into some sort of epidemic!”

Neither Oikawa nor his mother chuckled along with the doctor.

“Anyways,” he cleared his throat. “I’m going to listen to your breathing, do some physical checks, and we’ll do some x-rays to see how far it has progressed. Alright?”

Oikawa nodded and obeyed the doctor’s orders. He exhaled deeply, inhaled deeply, cleared his throat, and coughed too many times to count.

When Dr. Fujiwara was satisfied, he led them to the x-ray lab and ran him through the scanner. “I need to get the printed copies and go over them for a few minutes.” He waved over a nurse and continued, “Mina-san will take you back to your room.”

Back in the room, the first thing Oikawa did was pull his shirt back on. He felt cold and exposed, like everyone was staring at him and envisioning the flower petals that filled his lungs. A shiver ran down his spine. It wasn’t from the cold.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity—it was only fifteen minutes—Dr. Fujiwara returned, his face grim. “I have good news and bad news.”

They waited for him to continue with bated breath. He walked over to the light box that hung on the wall and placed some of Oikawa’s x-rays on it. “The bad news,” he said as he flipped the switch, “is that you do, in fact, have Hanahaki Disease. The good news is it’s in its very early stages and doesn’t appear to have done much damage to your lungs.”

Oikawa slid off the table and shuffled closer to see the x-rays. White tendrils encircled his chest cavity, leaving gaps where his lungs were. A scattering of petals shone white in his trachea and bronchi, and there were small piles of them at the bottoms of his lungs. He had a hard time believing those things were _inside_ him, and just looking at the pictures made him want to cough.

Dr. Fujiwara explained a few things about what was on the x-ray, but Oikawa didn’t hear a word. He was staring at the small flower bud positioned right next to his heart. When it bloomed, would he die?

“Now then,” Dr. Fujiwara turned off the light box and slid the x-rays back into his folder. “Let’s talk about your options.” He waited until they were both seated to begin. “Unfortunately, Hanahaki Disease is a very painful, and usually fatal, disease that has very limited treatment options. Actually, I don’t even think the options could be considered treatments; more like two cures and one…well, let’s just say it’s _unpleasant._

“The first option is the most desirable, but it’s definitely the most difficult choice. Because this disease occurs when a person is experiencing an unrequited love, it can be cured when their love is no longer ‘unrequited.’ In other words, you need to have the person you are in love with fall in love with you and confess to you.” Dr. Fujiwara paused a moment, waiting for a reaction.

Oikawa blinked and his mother glanced at him.

Dr. Fujiwara continued. “The second option is to surgically remove the diseased tissues and flowers. This is usually a last resort, but there have been some cases where patients elect to have surgery right off the bat. It’s very expensive and complicated, but, with the exception of the most extreme cases, it gets the job done. However, it should be noted that once the tissues and flowers have been completely removed, you will never be able to love that person again.

“The third option is less of an option and more of an end result.” He closed his folder and boldly met Oikawa’s gaze. “You let the disease grow and spread until it ultimately kills you.”

The room was so quiet that the sound of a pin dropping on the tile floor would have sounded like a clap of thunder.

Dr. Fujiwara shifted in his chair, and it squeaked beneath him. “Now, ideally, we usually have something figured out before it gets to the third option. Let’s talk a little bit more about the first option.”

“Uh, slight problem with that one,” Oikawa interrupted, a sheepish grin spreading over his face. “I don’t know who I’m supposedly in love with.”

Dr. Fujiwara’s voice was clearly being restrained, but he spoke evenly. “Oh? And how’s that?”

“Ah, well, I’ve had several girlfriends over the years,” Oikawa saw the doctor’s eyebrows twitch at his obvious understatement, “and I’ve already gone through and eliminated all of them. So, unless this is all one big misunderstanding…?”

His mother was burying her face in her hands. He couldn’t tell if she was mad about the absurd number of girlfriends he had or the fact that he had dismissed them all so easily. He suspected it was a bit of both.

Dr. Fujiwara shook his head. “There’s no way to fake these results; you definitely have the disease, and the only way you can get it is by having an unrequited love. Since you don’t have any ideas, let’s start from the beginning.” He pulled out his notepad and skimmed through the notes. “It says you’ve coughed up flowers twice now, correct?”

Oikawa nodded, his throat hurting at the mere mention of coughing.

“Alright. Usually when patients have the urge to cough, it’s immediately after they witness the person they love interacting with someone else. It will be a situation they could consider more than friendly; something like physical touching, a confession, or one-on-one conversations. Did you witness any of those—”

“Yes! The first time was shortly after I saw a girl confessing to my friend, and the second time was when I saw them talking after school.” The gears started turning in his head. “You don’t mean…?”

Dr. Fujiwara shrugged. “It’s possible.”

“You mean I love that girl?” Oikawa felt a little obtuse, like there was a connection he was missing, but that was the only plausible option he could think of.

“Again, it’s possible. Have you ever spoken with her before?”

“I don’t…yes, I have!” A memory flashed through his head. “We’re in the same class and worked on a project together. Ah, what was her name…”

“Was she pleasant and enjoyable to be around?” Dr. Fujiwara scribbled some notes on one of his papers.

Oikawa nodded. “She was really sweet. She treated us to yakisoba when we were done.”

“Are you talking about Mochizuki Haruka-san?” Oikawa’s mother offered.

“Yes, that’s her name!”

“Didn’t you try to take her on a date?”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t interested—oh.”

“Ah, so she slipped out of reach, hm?” Dr. Fujiwara suppressed a chuckle.

“She’s got to be the one! I can’t think of anyone else,” Oikawa said excitedly. “This is good!”

“How so?”

“Well, she was asking Iwa-chan out, but he’s such a stick in the mud about relationships that he probably turned her down. I can swoop in, confess my undying love, and I’ll be cured!”

“It’s really not that simple, Tooru,” Dr. Fujiwara stated. His matter-of-fact tone was annoying. “If she already turned you down once, I doubt she’ll accept you this time. Plus, you can’t just make people fall in love with you.”

Oikawa waved his hands confidently. “Oh, don’t worry! I’ll figure out something.”

His mom sighed deeply behind him. Sometimes she wondered how this wild child was really her son. 

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Dr. Fujiwara muttered, mirroring Oikawa’s mother’s sigh. “Regardless, I want you to schedule an appointment for two weeks from now. The disease seems to progress very slowly, but I want to stay up to date on what stages you’re in. Do you have any questions for me?”

Oikawa shook his head, but his mom spoke up quietly. “I have a question; is there any way to make the coughing fits less…painful?”

Dr. Fujiwara rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Medicinally, no, but some patients have said that being physically separated from the person seems to help. Because this is such a rare and severely under-researched disease, we don’t understand many of the symptoms and ways to reduce them. Ultimately, the best course of action is to avoid situations that may lead to coughing fits, but even that works for only so long. Does that answer your question?”

When she nodded, he turned to Oikawa. “Are you sure you don’t have any more questions for me?”

“Well, actually, now that you mention it, I do. How long does the disease last?”

“Typically, patients suffer anywhere from one year to three years. Each case is different, but most of them tend to progress slowly, shifting from one stage to the next over periods of several months. Right now, you are at the beginnings of the first stage. While you only noticed the effects yesterday, the flowers have been growing for the past few months. The initial seeds were probably planted sometime at the beginning of the year; perhaps January or February.”

Oikawa thought back to those two months. That was right around the time Mochizuki turned him down—the week after Valentine’s Day.

“In about four months, you’ll likely move into the second stage. You’ll experience coughing fits more often, and sometimes they will be ‘unprovoked.’ By that time, the flower bud located above your heart will grow larger, and once it starts to bloom, you’ll enter the third stage. That’s the make or break stage for your first option. If you haven’t wooed the person you love by then, you should probably consider surgery. We can discuss that stage and the final stage during our later checkups. As it stands now, just try and decide which course of action you want to take, alright?”

They nodded and Dr. Fujiwara smiled warmly. “Good. Well, that’s all we need to do for today. Let me walk you out.”

Oikawa’s head was spinning with the new information. This was actually happening to him, and he actually needed to do something about it. He fished his phone out of his pocket and opened up his messages with Iwaizumi.

>>> Good afternoon, Iwa-chan! How did your little date go yesterday?

His phone buzzed a few minutes later. 

>>> It wasn’t a date.

>>> Of course it wasn’t! Iwa-chan doesn’t go on dates with anyone! He’s lonely :(

>>> At least I don’t forget which girls I have dates with, Trashykawa.

>>> MEAN! Iwa-chan is so mean! :( So, is she your girlfriend??

>>> No, I turned her down.

>>> Can I snatch her up then? ;)

Oikawa didn’t get a response until it was almost dinner time.

>>> Do whatever you want, Trashykawa. I can’t stop you anyways.

>>> Poor Iwa-chan. Don’t worry, I’ll always make time for you, even when I have a girlfriend! Someone has to keep Iwa-chan company! :)

>>> I don’t care if you’re sick, I’m coming over to hit you.

>>> Okay :P

A man of his word, Iwaizumi showed up a few minutes later and swiftly smacked Oikawa upside the head.

Some things never changed.

* * *

Several months passed, the third year of high school started, and Iwaizumi was getting really tired of putting up with Oikawa’s antics. 

Apparently, the girl who had confessed to him, Mochizuki Haruka, was Oikawa’s ‘fated partner’—which sounded like a load of crap to anyone who listened to Oikawa. (The ‘whole fated partners’ spiel that most people were attracted to lost by a landslide to his ridiculous obsession with aliens). But for some reason, he really seemed to have his eye set on the girl. He had asked her out multiple times—some of them showy, and some of the sweet—and she had turned him down, without fail, every single time.

There were several reasons Iwaizumi hated this. First of all, Oikawa treated him like his partner in crime and told him all the dumb plans he had for wooing the poor girl. (It was painful to listen to, in more ways than one). And since he heard all the plans, he usually ended up getting dragged into them. 

That led to the second reason—the coughing fits. He was already nearing stage three, so they were painful enough as it was, but witnessing the botched confessions made the fits _so much worse_. He regularly spit up bloody petals now—gardenia petals, he learned after some research—and even started finding them when he ate. One day after practice outside, he took a sip of water and felt something floating in his mouth. Thinking one of the troublesome first-years got grass clippings in his water, he spit the thing out into his hand. Lo and behold, there was a white gardenia petal, its tips stained red with blood.

Then there was the third reason; the one that irked him the most. Oikawa was head over heels in love with someone that wasn’t him. 

To make matters worse, the whole ordeal was putting a serious strain on their friendship. They barely hung out anymore, and when they did, it was because Oikawa wanted to run some more confession ideas by Iwaizumi.

On a Saturday in late November, Iwaizumi could not stand it anymore, and he snapped.

“What do you think, Iwa-chan? All girls like cat cafés.” Oikawa’s voice was sickly sweet as he flipped through a magazine. They were in Iwaizumi’s room, with his heater set on maximum heat, and Oikawa was buried beneath a pile of blankets. (Honestly, Iwaizumi didn’t know how he wasn’t sweating to death).

Iwaizumi grunted and flipped through the apps on his phone. He wanted to play something on the PlayStation—hell, he’d even settle for multiplayer Tetris at this point—but Oikawa refused to take his nose out of the dating magazines.

“Ah, what about—”

“Shut up.”

Oikawa froze at the harshness in his voice. “Iwa-chan, what—”

“Just shut the hell up for once, would you?” Iwaizumi’s phone fell onto the bed sheets, abandoned. His chest started to tingle, a sign he knew well by now, but he continued. “All you ever do is talk about ‘Mochi-chan this’ and ‘Mochi-chan that.’ Do you have any idea how annoying it is, hearing you talk about her night and day for the past five months? Even Hanamaki and Matsukawa are getting sick of it.”

Oikawa dropped the magazine, his mouth opening to reply, but Iwaizumi didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“What’s your deal with her anyways? Up until she confessed to me, she wasn’t even on your radar. Then all of a sudden you’re tripping all over yourself trying to get her to fall for you.” A thought popped into his mind, an awful thought that was only brought into existence because of his built-up rage. “Oh my god, is it because she wanted _me_ instead of _you?”_

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Oikawa’s voice was flat, and his gaze was hard. 

He should stop now and fix things while he could.

He didn’t.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You just can’t stand the thought of a girl liking your friend but not liking you.” Iwaizumi laughed bitterly, and he could already taste the petals on his tongue. “I thought you were better than that, Oikawa.”

“You don’t understand, Iwaizumi!” Oikawa hissed, his voice strained.

“Oh, and you do?” Iwaizumi snapped back. “You understand how much crap you’ve put me through while you fawn over some girl who will never love you?”

“Shut up.” It wasn’t a command; it was a plea. 

“Get out.” Iwaizumi pointed to the door.

Oikawa didn’t budge, but his jaw was trembling and his eyes were red.

“Get out!” he shouted, and it _hurt so bad,_ but he was about to crack and he couldn’t let Oikawa see that. He couldn’t let him see those treacherous petals.

Oikawa gulped, on the verge of tears, and walked out of the room. His footsteps creaked across the floorboards and Iwaizumi heard the front door slam shut.

That’s when it started.

He was choking on petals. Every time he coughed, a flurry of petals flew out of his mouth. Some of them were pure white, but the overwhelming majority of them were stained red with blood. 

His lungs burned and his eyes watered—he wasn’t crying, he told himself—and with every second that passed, it hurt _more._ It felt like someone was twisting knives in his chest. He knew what it was, and he knew what it meant.

He was in the third stage now.

Iwaizumi could actually _feel_ the flower blooming next to his heart; its petals brushing against the vital muscle and making him cough even harder. 

He pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the coughs, while he used his other hand to push himself off the bed. A heap of petals spilled onto his floor, and he crawled through the slick mess towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of exclusively red petals in his wake.

His vision went dark, and he passed out before he reached the tiled floor.

* * *

Oikawa made it out of the house just before the coughing started. He had felt the petals clogging his throat and had barely managed to keep them down in front of Iwaizumi, but now his control was waning. He stumbled forward, thankful that he lived nearby, and spat petals into his hands.

When he reached the front gate, he could barely stand. His mother must have heard him hacking and wheezing, because she was at his side in an instant. She helped him inside and took him to the bathroom.

She rubbed his back and shoulders while he spit up flower petals in the sink. Most of them were white with red flecks, but as he continued to cough, more of them were a bloody crimson. Terror wrenched through her gut as she watched her son transition to stage three. It was a process that should have taken months, but it transpired over mere minutes. “Oh, Tooru. What did you do?”

Oikawa responded by coughing up a handful of petals so saturated in blood that it dripped from his chin.

He had felt pain before, but this was a whole other level. The thorny tendrils were digging into his lungs and tearing at the sensitive tissues around them. The now fully bloomed gardenia in his chest pressed against his heart, choking its steady beat. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, the coughing started to subside. The tendrils loosened and the petals ceased. Oikawa spat one last petal into the sink—which was nearly half full of the crimson petals—and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It came back red and sticky with blood.

His mother immediately left to get him a cup of green tea to soothe his throat. When she returned, he was sitting on the floor with his head on his knees. She knelt in front of him and offered him the cup. “Here, drink this.”

He took it gratefully and tried to croak out a thanks, but only a groan emanated from his thrashed throat.

“Shh,” she hushed him. “We can talk tomorrow; just drink the tea and go to bed, alright?”

Oikawa nodded and carefully sipped the lukewarm tea. It stung at first, but soon it started to work its magic and coat his throat protectively. When he finished the cup, he mumbled a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Come on, Tooru. Let’s get you to bed.”

He hated having to rely on people so much for this, and he hated that his poor mother had become so used to carrying half of his weight on her hunched shoulders that she didn’t even bat an eye. But what choice did he have? It was this or curl up and die, and he didn’t plan on dying any time soon.

They reached his room and he flopped down on his bed, thoroughly exhausted. His mother laid a pair of pajamas next to him, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and left the room.

Oikawa gently tugged off his shirt, dismayed at the flecks of blood that adorned the collar. He pulled off his pants and put on the green alien pajamas. He was far too tired to do anything else, so he pushed his clothes onto the floor and slid beneath the covers.

A sigh of relief left his lips. He had just coughed up a month’s worth of petals, but somehow, he could breathe easier. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

If Oikawa had been awake for one more minute, he would have heard the sirens go past his house.

* * *

Iwaizumi spent the day in the hospital.

After he passed out, his mom had come inside and found him lying in a pool of blood and petals and called an ambulance. They resuscitated him and took him to the nearest ER.

Dr. Fujiwara had stopped in at some point to check on him. He asked what happened, and Iwaizumi told him the full story. (He was forced to stop halfway through because he had a mild coughing fit.) He didn’t even deny the fact that he knew he could have stopped, _should_ have stopped, but continued yelling at Oikawa even though it hurt so much.

Dr. Fujiwara looked very grave as he thought over the details. His twitching thumbs hinted that he had something he wanted to share, but he kept his mouth closed. Whatever he had to say, it probably wouldn’t change Iwaizumi’s condition, so he didn’t ask.

(Actually, it would have solved a lot of problems. Dr. Fujiwara knew his two Hanahaki patients were friends, but after talking with Oikawa’s mom and listening to Iwaizumi’s story, he was awfully suspicious about the extent of their friendship. Alas, he held his tongue).

“Stage three, hmm? I didn’t expect it to progress this quickly…” he rubbed his chin. “Well, here’s what you can expect during this stage.

“All the petals you cough up now will be bloody. You will have coughing fits more often, and they will be a bit worse, although they ought to pale in comparison to the one you experienced yesterday. I have to say, that was very reckless of you.” Dr. Fujiwara frowned disapprovingly. “Anyways, you might start coughing up petals that are stuck together in pairs. If this is allowed to continue into stage four, you will end up coughing up entire flowers. I highly recommend you consider surgery, Hajime.”

“Okay,” he said with a sniff.

Dr. Fujiwara studied him a few seconds longer. “You’re going to be having weekly appointments from now on. I’ve already got you down for the next few weeks, alright?”

Iwaizumi nodded, and his parents did the same.

Dr. Fujiwara’s face softened and he ruffled Iwaizumi’s hair. “Keep your chin up, Hajime.”

And then he walked out, leaving Iwaizumi to face his parents and their wishes for surgery alone.

He had decided early on that he didn’t want the surgery. He wasn’t worried about the cost or potential complications; he was scared of the results. Like it or not, Oikawa was a huge part of his life, and to have his feelings for his best friend literally carved out of him was more terrifying than choking to death because of them.

Iwaizumi told his parents as much. They pleaded with him to reconsider, but he was adamant in his decision. He would rather die loving Oikawa Tooru than live never being able to love him at all. And that would never change.

* * *

A month had passed since the awful fight. Oikawa was being forced to consider surgery, because every plan he made to woo Mochizuki Haruka fell through. He had to admit, he was impressed by her stubborn nature, but everything else about her seemed lackluster.

She was a nice girl, but she didn’t make his heart beat fast or the petals tickle his throat. 

In fact, he was starting to wonder if she really was his unrequited love.

The inconsistencies had started piling up after his fight with Iwaizumi. Up until then, he never had a coughing fit unless he had recently been around her. That was the first time he had been miles away, and it was the one that hurt the most.

There were other instances where she was out sick or on vacation and Oikawa would inevitably wind up in the infirmary, coughing up crimson petals even though he hadn’t been thinking of her.

But if it wasn’t her, who could it be? 

No, he had to be mistaken. What he needed to do was make one last ditch, absolutely amazing effort to get her to date him. He wasn’t trying as hard as he could. He decided then and there to plan his most extravagant date yet and win her over. 

“Oikawa!” A book came down on his head and he jumped. The teacher was standing over him, a mixed look of concern and annoyance on her face. “Please don’t zone out in class.”

“Ah, sorry Sensei.” The class giggled and snickered. Even Mochi-chan was grinning. Well, that was a win, right?

The teacher rolled her eyes and continued with the lesson. Oikawa closed _his_ eyes and continued making plans.

Finally, after a week of working with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, Oikawa was ready to put Operation Win Mochi-chan Over into motion. He was going to take her to an aquarium, then they’d buy crepes and take a walk in the park, and to top it all off, he was going to confess to her while fireworks from one of the New Year’s festivals went off in the background. Now all he needed to do was convince her to go with him.

“Mochi-chan~!” he sang, sidling up to her desk during a break period. “Will you go out with me this Saturday?”

She looked up at him, her cheeks flushing red like they always did around him. She chewed her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes darting around the room. “Okay.”

“Oh, but—wait. Okay?”

Mochi-chan nodded, her blush spreading down her neck.

“Excellent! I’ll meet you at the station at ten o’clock, okay?”

She nodded and ran off with her bento box, leaving a trail of steam behind her.

Oikawa pumped his fists in the air. Everything was going to work out perfectly now. It had to.

Saturday couldn’t come any quicker.

* * *

Saturday came way too fast.

As soon as Iwaizumi saw Mochizuki agree to go out with Oikawa, he knew it was over. The two of them hadn’t talked, but he knew Oikawa was going to finally get the girl of his dreams—Iwaizumi snorted—to agree to date him. 

He spent the morning moping around the house and having coughing fits. The pain in his chest was getting worse by the minute, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Rather, there was nothing he was willing to do to stop it. (His parents still brought up the surgery option every now and then, but he always shot it down immediately).

After a particularly nasty coughing fit, he got a text from Hanamaki.

>>> Matsukawa and I are coming over to ‘study’ to get out of Oikawa’s lame dating scheme.

His heart clenched painfully.

>>> Okay.

>>> We’ll be there soon. I have snacks!

>>> Sounds good.

Iwaizumi spent the next fifteen minutes cleaning his room and hoping they didn’t notice the sickly-sweet fragrance of flowers. (That was an unfortunate side effect of the disease—he smelled like a walking flower shop from all the petals. He told everyone it was his mom’s new fabric softener.)

Hanamaki and Matsukawa showed up a few minutes later. They had bags of junk food and drinks and grins on their faces. Naturally, there wasn’t a textbook in sight. Iwaizumi welcomed them in, and they headed up to his room.

“Eh, Iwaizumi, why does your house smell like a flower shop?” Hanamaki asked as he made himself comfortable on the floor.

“Ah, my mom misses spring and has been spraying flowery air freshener all over.” He sniffed. “Sorry.”

Matsukawa studied him for a moment before joining Hanamaki on the floor. “So,” he drawled, pulling a juice box out of one of the bags, “what’s got you in such a gloomy mood?”

Iwaizumi winced. He forgot how observant Matsukawa could be at times. “I don’t know. The weather, maybe?”

“Hmm…” Matsukawa stabbed the straw into the juice box. “Are you sure it’s not because of Oikawa?”

He stiffened, shoulders straightening and hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Why would I be in a bad mood because of Oikawa?”

“Well,” Hanamaki jumped in, “You two had a bad fight and haven’t talked since, right? And it was about that girl he’s trying to date, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Petals tickled his throat and the tendrils tightened.

“You have to deal with it sometime. You two are joined at the hip! Up until now, you did everything together!” Hanamaki leaned forward. “In fact, I think this is the longest I’ve ever seen you two apart. You’re inseparable—”

“I don’t—” his words caught in his throat. A cough escaped him.

“He’s right, Iwaizumi.” Matsukawa piped up, slurping his juice loudly. “You can’t avoid Oikawa forever.”

“I—” he choked a little more violently.

“Hey, are you okay?” Hanamaki crawled towards him. His stern look was replaced with concern. “Do you need some water?”

Iwaizumi pressed his hand to his mouth. He couldn’t let them see. They couldn’t know—

Matsukawa was slowly lowering his juice box. The gears were starting to turn.

Iwaizumi coughed harder, his breath coming in little gasps as he tried to choke back petals. The flower in his chest was burning, and the thorny tendrils were squeezing his lungs. He caught a petal with his hand.

“I’ll go get your mom.” Hanamaki disappeared, leaving Iwaizumi alone with Matsukawa.

The coughing got worse, and by the time his mom rushed into the room, he couldn’t hide the petals any longer. She tried to shield him from view, but it was too late.

He spat crimson petals onto his lap, and his friends stared at him in shock.

The secret was out now. No sense trying to cover it up.

Iwaizumi let himself hack and cough until the tendrils loosened and his breath returned. The pile of bloodied petals spilled off his bed and onto the floor. As he wiped the blood from his chin, he noted that more of them were connected than before. That wasn’t good.

Hanamaki was still too stunned to say anything, but Matsukawa seemed relatively calm. “I suspected as much.”

Iwaizumi’s mom handed him a glass of water, which he drank quickly. He looked at Matsukawa, his voice scratchy and weak. “What do you mean?”

“You disappeared during practice one day. When I went to the bathroom later, I noticed a bunch of bloody flower petals in the trash. That, and you sniffed after telling us about your new fabric softener.” Matsukawa shifted his feet. “I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

“Iwaizumi, what is this?” Hanamaki finally found his voice.

“Hanahaki Disease,” his mother supplied when Iwaizumi couldn’t croak out an answer. “There’s a gardenia flower growing near his heart, and it has thorns wrapped around his lungs. It makes him have coughing fits like this.”

“Hanahaki…? You mean it’s real?” Hanamaki stared at them in disbelief. “I thought it only happened in manga.”

Iwaizumi shook his head and pointed to the flowers in his lap. That was all the proof he needed.

“So, what causes it? Can it be cured?”

“An unrequited love,” Matsukawa murmured. When the group looked at him in surprise, he added, “A relative of mine had it.”

“Iwaizumi’s in love?” Hanamaki spun around, unable to keep the grin off his face. “I knew it! Who is it? Is it that girl Oikawa’s trying to date? Is that why you fought?”

Iwaizumi shook his head again. “No…”

Hanamaki started rattling off a list of all the girls he knew—which wasn’t many—and Iwaizumi kept shutting him down. “Come on, man. The secret’s out now! Just tell us, please!”

“It’s Oikawa, isn’t it?” Matsukawa’s voice was faint, but firm.

“No.” He sniffed. Damn it.

“Oikawa?” Hanamaki glanced between them incredulously. “You like Oikawa? Why?”

Iwaizumi frowned down at his lap. He wondered that too, if he was being honest. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Matsukawa pressed. “That’s why you’ve been disappearing more since you fought; you’re having more coughing fits. It makes perfect sense. No wonder you two argued. He was so focused on that girl he couldn’t see how much he was hurting you. And then we went and helped him. God, I’m such an idiot.” He buried his face in his hands.

Iwaizumi bit his lip. It couldn’t hurt to admit it now, right? They seemed to have it all figured out anyways. “Fine. Yes, it’s Oikawa.”

“Wow, you have bad taste.”

“Shut up, Hanamaki.” A bit cautiously, he added, “You two aren’t grossed out?”

“Why would we be? I’d probably be grossed out if you didn’t love him. But you’re like his mom. It’s weird.”

Matsukawa nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m not really surprised either. You’ve put up with him for all these years; there had to be more to it than just ‘friends.’ I can barely stand being around him for a full day.”

Iwaizumi felt relieved he had friends like these two. Most people wouldn’t have been so accepting. “Thanks…”

Hanamaki waved his hand, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “You would do the same for us.” Matsukawa jumped at that, and Iwaizumi glanced at him suspiciously. Hanamaki continued, “So, how can we help you with this…disease?” 

Iwaizumi inhaled deeply. “There’s nothing you can do. The only one who could do anything…well, he’s preoccupied.”

“Oikawa has to return his feelings,” Matsukawa explained at Hanamaki’s confused look. “Or, he can have surgery to remove the flower.”

“Well, why haven’t you had surgery yet, Iwaizumi?”

“Surgery doesn’t just get rid of the flower, Hanamaki. I’ll never be able to love Oikawa again,” he muttered, fingers fumbling with the petals in his lap.

“Forgive me for being blunt, but what’s wrong with that?” 

Iwaizumi blinked at Hanamaki as if he had just asked the dumbest question on earth. (To Iwaizumi, he had).

“Makki, you idiot,” Matsukawa hissed and slapped him on the back. “How would you feel if you could never love someone again?”

“Well, can’t he just find someone else?” Hanamaki winced and rubbed his back.

“I could try, Hanamaki,” Iwaizumi murmured. “But I don’t think I could find anyone.”

“He has to have Oikawa,” Matsukawa said, still glaring at Hanamaki.

“Gee, Iwaizumi, I didn’t know you could be such a romantic—hey!” Hanamaki cried as Matsukawa smacked him again.

Iwaizumi flushed scarlet. He was right, but hearing it aloud was embarrassing. As his friends bickered, he tried to put together an explanation. How could he put his feelings into words? He couldn’t even decide what they were half the time.

“Makki and I are going home,” Matsukawa announced, getting to his feet and pulling Hanamaki up with him. “Sorry for barging in and making you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s alright,” Iwaizumi responded, granting them a rare smile.

His friends started to leave, but Hanamaki wiggled free and ran back. “If you need our help, just ask! And for the record, Oikawa is an idiot!”

Iwaizumi laughed. He was glad to finally feel something other than the flower blooming in his chest. It was refreshing.

He wondered how long it would last.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand and he picked up to see who it was. The fuzzy feeling vanished immediately.

It was a message from Oikawa.

>>> She said yes!

There was a picture attached of him kissing Mochizuki’s cheek in victory.

The petals surged in Iwaizumi’s throat and the coughing returned. He knew it was going to happen; he knew Oikawa was going to get the girl, but he had hoped he wouldn’t gloat over it.

He was wrong.

Iwaizumi was choking on blood and petals. He staggered off his bed and out of his room. He was going to make it to the bathroom this time. 

His mother heard him and ran to his aid. She guided him to the sink, where he clung to the counter and coughed so hard tears rolled down his cheeks.

The petals were coming out in clusters now, with very few of them falling as individual petals. His lungs burned with pain and lack of air, and all he could do was spit and choke and hope it would be over soon.

His whole body convulsed as he choked on a lump that caught in his throat. He hiccupped and clawed at his throat, desperately trying to dislodge the petals. With the remaining energy he had, he coughed as hard as he could, and the lump slid into his mouth.

Iwaizumi spit it out into the sink, blood dripping down his chin.

It was a flower. A fully formed, blood red gardenia.

His mother whined at the sight of it and a sob shook her shoulders. They both knew what this meant.

Iwaizumi had just reached stage four, there was no turning back now.

* * *

Oikawa looked smugly at his phone screen. He hadn’t heard anything from Iwaizumi since he sent the picture, and that was probably because he was too upset to admit defeat.

“O—Oikawa-san…?”

“Yes, Mochi-chan?”

“Can I call you by your first name?” She blushed furiously and looked away from him.

“Ah,” Oikawa was a bit stunned. The only people who called him by his given name were his family members and occasionally Iwaizumi. He flinched. “Yeah.”

“T—Tooru-kun…” she mumbled, the name sounding completely foreign on her tongue.

He hated it.

Oikawa blinked. Where did that come from? Shouldn’t that have made him happy?

“Tooru-kun,” she repeated, smiling widely.

Again, he felt a bitter taste in his mouth. Something was wrong. The flower should have started shrinking by now, but it actually felt like it was getting bigger. The tendrils were squeezing his lungs and the flower brushed against his heart.

“Tooru-kun, Tooru-kun,” she chanted happily.

The more she said his name, the more his chest hurt. “Please stop.”

Mochizuki stared at him, shocked by the harshness in his voice. “S—Sorry.”

“Ah,” he caught himself. “It’s just embarrassing.”

That was a lie. It was sickening.

“I see…” She looped her arm in his.

Oikawa fought the urge to pull away. “It’s getting late, let’s go home.”

Because he was a gentleman with a reputation to uphold, he walked her home before catching the train back to his neighborhood. During the trip back, his mind was buzzing with activity.

He got the girl. She said she loved him, and the heavy blush on her cheeks told him it wasn’t a lie. So why did he still feel the petals tickling the back of his throat.

“Well, how did it go?” his mom asked when he arrived home.

“She said yes.”

“That’s great, Tooru! Do you feel any better now? And why are you frowning so much?”

“Actually,” he said with a sigh, “I feel worse.”

“What do you mean? Dr. Fujiwara told us the pain would go away once—”

“I know what he said,” Oikawa grumbled, cutting her off in his agitation. “But my chest hurts even more, and the flower feels bigger.”

She studied her son in concern. “Tooru, maybe it just takes some time to heal. You are in the third stage; maybe it just takes longer to undo the damage when you’re this far along.”

“Maybe,” he muttered, unconvinced. “I’m tired; I’m going to bed.”

“Alright, goodnight Tooru.” She patted his shoulder gently and went back to washing dishes.

Oikawa showered and went into his room. There was a nagging sensation at the back of his mind. He could tell something was off, but he didn’t know what.

He hadn’t picked the wrong girl, right? He shook his head. No, it had to be Mochizuki. She was the only girl he had seen during the first two coughing fits. The only other person around was—

His phone buzzed, derailing his train of thoughts. He picked it up and saw a message on the screen from Iwaizumi. He unlocked his phone and opened the text.

>>> Good for you.

He was about to type a reply when Iwaizumi sent another message.

>>> I hope she’s everything you ever wanted. 

A pit formed in his stomach and the thorns dug into his lungs. He flinched and put a hand to his chest.

Okay, that was weird.

His phone dinged again.

>>> Don’t bother me anymore.

He started coughing before he put his phone down. At first, he thought it was just a little coughing fit, but soon he was on his knees, spitting up clusters of flower petals.

And oh, this was _bad._

Oikawa choked and wheezed; the awful sounds summoning his mother and father. They realized right away that this was no ordinary coughing fit, and they promptly helped him to the bathroom.

He hovered over the sink, petals falling from his lips like raindrops. Only, they weren’t just petals; no, they were chunks of flowers, clumped together and dripping with blood. And they kept getting bigger and bigger as he continued hacking.

Finally, after choking out a particularly large lump, he could breathe. But the sight in the sink had all the air leaving his lungs again.

A crimson gardenia flower sat atop the pile, its petals bathed in blood.

That nagging voice was back. Who worked him up into enough of a frenzy that he skipped months of progress in a single night?

It wasn’t Mochizuki. It couldn’t have been her, because he hadn’t even been thinking about her when the attack started. And, if it was her, he wouldn’t have had the attack in the first place.

Oikawa wheezed heavily, the coughs subsiding as he spat a mouthful of blood into the sink. His mom brought him a cup of green tea and he drank it quickly, gulping it down so fast he winced. He didn’t care; he just needed to be able to talk.

“Tooru, be careful!” She pulled the cup from his hands, but it was already empty.

“I‘m fine,” he rasped, wiping his mouth with a tissue. He slowed his breathing and collected his thoughts.

His mother spoke up after a few minutes of silence. “I thought you said she loves you.”

“Maybe she does, but she’s not the one.” He racked his brain, thinking of who it could possibly be if not Mochizuki.

“What do you mean, ‘she’s not the one’? Then who is?”

“I don’t know!” He slammed his hands on the counter, frustration making his chest ache.

“Tooru,” his father murmured, in his firm but gentle voice. “Try and think of the one person who has always been around during your worst attacks. There has to be someone—”

“I’m trying,” Oikawa croaked out. His throat screamed in protest as he started to ramble. “I’m trying to think! I’m going through all the girls I know but there’s no—”

A face flashed through his head, blurred but recognizable.

Oh, no.

“Tooru?” His mother leaned towards him. “Tooru, you just thought of someone. Who is it?”

“I—” No, this couldn’t be right. There was no way…

“Tooru?”

…but he was right. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he _knew_ it was true.

“Tooru, who is it?”

“Iwa-chan,” he breathed, and the tendrils tightened in confirmation. “I’m in love with Iwa-chan.”

And _oh_ , the agony that realization brought was crushing, because it made him think of all the awful things he had done to that boy. His best friend.

His unrequited love.

“Iwaizumi Hajime…” his mother mumbled, her eyes widening.

The final pieces fell into place and the puzzle was unveiled. _Of course,_ it was Iwaizumi. How could he have not realized it before? They had spent their lives together; Oikawa couldn’t believe how stupid he had been.

And yes, his heart was soaring at the thought of being in love with Iwaizumi, but the pit in his stomach dragged him right back down.

Oikawa loved Iwaizumi Hajime, but Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t love him. In fact, he probably hated his guts after everything he had put him through the past year. 

His face fell into his hands as tears slipped down his cheeks. How was he going to fix this? Or was he just going to die?

His mother rubbed his back soothingly and his father patted his shoulder gently. They both knew what had happened between the boys, and they both understood what this meant for their son. 

Things were looking very grim.

* * *

By Monday, the word had already spread that Mochizuki Haruka had gotten dumped by Oikawa.

Iwaizumi was incensed by the news. How could he not be, when he had endured so much suffering at the hands of Oikawa for a girl he dumped in two days’ time? It made him livid, and it also led to him having a fit at the beginning of the school day.

The school nurse, Mikasa-san, was used to his visits by now, but she looked surprised to see him so early in the day. “That bad, huh?” she asked, rubbing his back as he spit up flowers into the trash bin. “Have you tried confessing?”

He choked—not from a flower.

“Thought so,” Mikasa sighed. “You really ought to, you know? I mean, you’ll die if you don’t confess and you may not die if you do confess. Unless, of course, you’re going to have the surgery…?”

Iwaizumi shook his head and wiped the blood from his mouth. “I don’t want the surgery,” he rasped.

“You’re a tough nut to crack, you know?” She handed him a cup of water. “Do you have a death wish, or something?” 

He chugged the water in response, wincing slightly. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to lose Oikawa either. Why did no one seem to understand that?

“You know, after all this trouble you put me through, don’t you think you should just tell me who you’re so in love with you’re willing to throw away the rest of your life? You know, so I can smack them and tell them to get a move on? It’d make my job a lot easier.”

Iwaizumi scoffed. “You almost sound like you care.”

“I’m a nurse for a reason, Iwaizumi. I _do_ care; I just don’t like to show it.” Mikasa smiled lightly, but the look in her eyes was downright serious. “Besides, I’m tired of my office smelling like gardenias.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry? Can I go?”

“You don’t sound very apologetic. Fine,” she waved her hand and went back to her desk. “You can leave.”

Iwaizumi hopped off the bed, hoping he didn’t miss too much of his class. He paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “…Oikawa Tooru.”

Mikasa jumped in her chair and turned to look at him, but he was already gone. 

“Oikawa Tooru, huh?” she mumbled to herself. “Well, this just gets weirder and weirder.”

She had no idea.

* * *

Oikawa spent the day getting harassed by girls left and right. Truthfully, he deserved it. Then again, he had thought he was in love with Mochizuki, so it wasn’t entirely his fault, right? (Wrong).

But that was the least of his worries; he had to find a way to fix things with Iwaizumi, and he had to do it _fast_. Time was literally running out for him. His days were numbered. At the least, he wanted to spend them with his best friend.

The weekend had given him time to reflect and cool his head. Looking back, he really wasn’t all that surprised to see that it was Iwaizumi he loved. They had spent every waking moment with each other as kids, and Oikawa preferred his company to everyone else’s. They played in the woods, having duels with sticks and collecting gross bugs. They stargazed, and Oikawa showed Iwaizumi all the constellations in the sky. They had sleepovers and played video games until the sun came up. They played volleyball together, and they were nigh unstoppable on the court. They were best friends.

That wasn’t to say they never fought; they fought all the time, but they always made up afterwards. Oikawa wanted this time to be no different.

So, when the break period started, he dodged the mob of angry girls and boldly planted himself on Iwaizumi’s desk. 

Iwaizumi arched his brow and met his gaze.

“Hi, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa forced a smile and used his peppiest voice.

Iwaizumi was not amused. “Oikawa.”

“You know, I was thinking we could hang out after you’re done with practice today. My mom is making hot pot!”

He blinked but said nothing. He didn’t have to use words to get his point across.

“I…” Oikawa ducked his head and traced patterns in the tiled floor. His chest was starting to hurt. “I owe you an apology, and an explanation. Please come, at least for dinner. I’m tired of fighting with Iwa-chan.”

When he raised his head, his heart leapt in his throat. Iwaizumi was fixing him with one of his steady, unreadable gazes. It was the look that saw right through all his façades, the one that belonged to the person who knew him best. 

Oikawa gulped.

“Fine.”

A genuine smile spread across his face. “Really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind, Trashykawa.” Iwaizumi averted his eyes.

“Mean, Iwa-chan!”

“Whatever. Now, get off my desk. You’re squishing my papers, Fattykawa.”

“Mean!” he shrieked again, but jumped off the desk, still smiling. The tendrils loosened in his chest.

“Oh, what’s this?” Hanamaki leered at them from the door.

“Ah, Iwaizumi, don’t bully Oikawa.” Matsukawa popped up behind him, a juice box hanging from his mouth. (He seriously drank too many of those).

“I’m not doing anything!” Iwaizumi barked. “He’s harassing me!”

“Eh, I am not!” Oikawa whined.

“You sat on my desk and wrinkled my papers!”

“You called me ‘Fattykawa!’”

Hanamaki snorted and Matsukawa rolled his eyes. “Why don’t we agree that you’re bullying each other and quit causing a scene, huh?”

Oikawa blinked, noticing for the first time that half the class was staring at them. (Who could blame them? It was that or math homework). He didn’t mind being the center of attention, but this was a little… 

Matsukawa slurped loudly and the class lost interest. He looked pointedly at Iwaizumi. “So, I didn’t know you two worked things out so quickly.”

“We haven’t…” Iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck. “…yet.”

“Oh, were we interrupting?” Hanamaki dragged a chair over and sat down next to them. “Sorry. By all means, continue.”

“Quit it, Makki,” Matsukawa scolded. He redirected his attention to Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “We can leave…?”

“No, stay!” Oikawa said, a little too frantically. “The four of us haven’t chatted in a while!”

“Tch, and whose fault was that?” Iwaizumi huffed and leaned his head on his hand. Oikawa winced as the thorns poked him again. “Ah, sorry.”

“No, no, Iwa-chan is right,” he chuckled. “I was being dumb.”

“So, you admit to being Dummykawa?”

“I—mean!” Oikawa pouted. “Iwa-chan is always so mean to me, even when I’m trying to be nice.”

“Oh, quit pouting. You look like an elementary student.” Iwaizumi bumped his shoulder with his fist, and the petals swirled in Oikawa’s lungs. “Anyways…”

He started rambling about some new video game that had just been released, but Oikawa didn’t hear a word of it. He was just glad he and Iwaizumi were able to talk again.

“Oikawa, quit zoning out.” Hanamaki poked his knee with a pencil, dragging him back to reality. 

Oikawa whined then grinned, jumping back into the conversation.

Yeah, today was going to be a good day.

And it was. The rest of his classes went by smoothly, and he only had one tiny coughing fit the whole day. Practice with his nephew after school was fun—partly because he was able to run around without wheezing like an old man and partly because it was with his nephew—and soon it was time for Iwaizumi to come over.

Oikawa’s mom almost strangled him when he told her Iwaizumi was going to be there in five minutes. “Tooru, you should have told me earlier! Now I have to clean the entryway and—”

Oikawa and his father watched her run around like a chicken with its head cut off. (It was quite entertaining). “Are you sure this is a good idea, Tooru? I mean, what if you have another coughing fit?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I won’t mess this up.”

And he didn’t. Iwaizumi arrived a few minutes late, his hair still damp from a shower and his skin flushed from the cold. Despite being a little shy at first, he seemed happy to be there, and quickly struck up a conversation with the family.

They shared laughs as they ate, and Oikawa was pleasantly surprised to hear Iwaizumi chuckle along with them. The sound made him smile so much his cheeks hurt. 

Oikawa was the happiest he had been in months. He hoped these moments could last forever.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and once the hotpot was gone, the two boys moved up to Oikawa’s room to talk.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, petals tickling their throats, until Oikawa held up his gaming remotes. “Ratchet and Clank?”

That was the one game Iwaizumi couldn’t resist. He reached for a controller, but Oikawa raised them just out of reach. He fixed him with a glare and stood, but even then, Oikawa still held them a few inches too high. “Just give me a remote, Oikawa.”

“Not unless Iwa-chan says, ‘Please!’” He gave him a childish grin and waved the controllers around. “Or jumps for th—”

Iwaizumi just pushed him down on the bed and yanked one from his hand.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

“Not my fault you’re a weak beanpole, Stringykawa.” Iwaizumi smirked.

“Mean! You’re always so mean!” Oikawa whined and sat up. Iwaizumi was staring at him amusedly. “What?”

“Your hair is all messed up.”

Oikawa grumbled profanities under his breath and tried to comb his hair down with his fingers. Second only to his face, his hair was his most beautiful quality. Of course, it took a bit of product to get it to look just perfect, so he always fussed when it got messy, even if it was in front of his family. (Even more so when he was with Iwa-chan). “There, did I fix it?”

“No.” Iwaizumi scooted away to turn on the PlayStation. “But it looks fine, Trashykawa.”

“Don’t say that and then call me ‘Trashykawa!’”

“Fine,” Iwaizumi huffed and taunted over his shoulder, “Messykawa.”

Oikawa felt the tendrils curl tightly in response to the stupid names and his ears were burning. He threw a pillow at Iwaizumi, smacking him on the back of the head.

He almost toppled over from the force but caught himself. Grabbing the pillow, he glared at Oikawa, who audibly gulped and chuckled nervously. Two could play at this game.

Oikawa shrieked when Iwaizumi jumped him, smacking him with the pillow. They tussled on the bed, pillows flying and laughter echoing throughout the room. They didn’t stop until they were both panting heavily, and then collapsed on the bed next to each other.

Oikawa couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive. His heart was beating fast, but he didn’t feel any pain. So, this is what it felt to breathe like a normal person; he had almost forgotten.

Iwaizumi coughed lightly next to him and sat up, rubbing his throat. “I haven’t had a pillow fight in a while.”

“Wasn’t it fun? See, we have fun together, Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah,” he coughed again and turned his head. “We do.”

Oikawa cleared his throat and rolled onto his side. Silence settled over them, and the petals were tickling at the back of his throat again. He wanted to say something—anything—but no words came to mind. Apologies had never really been his strong suit to begin with, and trying to apologize for months of unnecessary tension was even more difficult.

Then, to his surprise, Iwaizumi spoke up. “Why were you going after Mochizuki if you were going to dump her right away?”

Ah, straight to the point. Oikawa inhaled and went over the faux explanation he had been rehearsing. “Have…have you ever felt drawn to someone, and you can’t explain why?”

Iwaizumi gazed at him evenly. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It was something like that,” Oikawa said. And it wasn’t a lie; he had felt drawn to her, or at least he thought he did. “Turns out I was completely wrong.”

“You went through all of that for a feeling?” Iwaizumi’s voice raised in volume. “You obsessed over getting her to fall for you for _months_ for that?”

The thorns pricked his lungs at the anger in Iwaizumi’s voice. He winced. “I—”

“I know you’re flippant with girls, but that’s a little much, even for you.”

Oikawa stifled a cough. 

Iwaizumi continued, leaning forward. “Do you even feel bad about what happened? I mean, you spent all this time trying to sweep her off her feet, and then you dump her after a day?”

“Yes, I made a mistake! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done all that,” he snapped. The tendrils squeezed tighter. “But I only did it because I had to.”

“‘Had to?’ What the hell could spur you to ‘have to’ lead a girl on and break her heart?” Iwaizumi hissed, his words stinging sharply. “What happened to you?”

Oh, if only Oikawa could say it. And he wanted to; he wanted to tell Iwaizumi about the stupid disease he had because he was in love with _him,_ but fear stirred with the flowers and he couldn’t speak.

They sat in a tense, uncomfortable silence. The bubbly feelings from earlier were gone, and Oikawa was just trying to keep from spitting up flowers.

“I’m going home.”

“Iwa-ch—”

“We can talk tomorrow, but I need to clear my head,” Iwaizumi murmured, his voice strained. His fingers brushed Oikawa’s shoulder when he stood. 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa caught his wrist, and even he could hear the desperation in his voice.

Iwaizumi stared at his hand, then slowly pulled it away. “Sorry.”

He left the room.

The flower in his chest pressed hard against his heart, and Oikawa started coughing immediately. It wasn’t nearly as bad as last time, but it _hurt,_ nonetheless. 

His eyes stung with tears and he gasped for breath as the flower caught in his throat. He screwed his eyes shut when he spit a flower into his hand, and the image of Iwaizumi pulling away danced in his mind.

Oikawa stared at the blood-soaked flower in his hand. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

Probably not much.

* * *

They didn’t talk the next day, or the next day, or the day after that. They interacted minimally at school and practice, walked home together, and went their separate ways. 

Consequently, Iwaizumi’s coughing fits occurred more frequently, and they grew more intense. After a really nasty one after lunch on Thursday, Hanamaki and Matsukawa approached him out of concern.

“I thought you two were mending fences?” Hanamaki asked, sitting on the infirmary bed next to him. “What happened?”

Iwaizumi sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I got mad at him about the whole Mochizuki thing again.”

“I still think you should swallow your pride and confess!” Mikasa called from her desk.

He rolled his eyes. “I told you, that would just make things worse.”

“You don’t know that!” she quipped, spinning around in her chair to face the three boys. “And like _I_ told _you,_ at least then you stand a fighting chance at beating this disease. You’re too far gone for surgery now; Oikawa is your only hope.”

“Is that true, Iwaizumi?” Matsukawa put down his juice box.

“No,” he sniffed.

“Liar.”

“Fine!” he threw his hands up. “Yes, it’s true.”

“Well then, get on with it!” Hanamaki exclaimed. “The worst that can happen is you die, and it sounds like you’ll end up dying if you just sit around and do nothing.”

“By ‘doing nothing,’ I’m ensuring he’ll stick around long enough for me to spend more time with him! If I confess, he’ll get uncomfortable and avoid me!”

“You don’t know that!” Mikasa sang, again.

“Neither do you!” He bit back a cough.

Mikasa shook her head. “You’re just scared.”

 _“Of course,_ I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll lose my best friend.”

“You won’t know until you try. And until you try, you’re not stepping foot in this infirmary again,” she stated. “Leave. All of you.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can, and I’m doing it now.” Mikasa grabbed their collars and dragged them out the door. “I only treat patients who have spines. Come back when you grow one.”

Iwaizumi flinched when she slammed the door in their faces.

“Well, that went splendidly,” Hanamaki muttered. Matsukawa smacked him upside the head. “Ow!”

“So, are you going to confess now?”

“Why the hell would I do that?” Iwaizumi growled. “She’s batty.”

“She does have a point, though.”

“Oh, not you, too, Matsukawa!”

“I agree,” Hanamaki said, rubbing the back of his head. “You should at least try to confess. At least then you’d be able to bravely say you fought as hard as you could.”

“It’s not that si—”

“Eh, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi jerked around and saw Oikawa jogging towards them.

Oikawa was panting heavily by the time he reached the group. “Hey…let’s hang out…on Saturday…” 

He regarded him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because we need to finish our talk.” Oikawa straightened, and the determined glint in his eye sent a shiver down Iwaizumi’s spine.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa slipped away while Iwaizumi stared at the ground in silence. “Alright,” he finally said. “But let’s go to an arcade or something first.”

“But Iwa-chan always wins the arcade games!” Oikawa whined, although his lips curled up in a smile.

He shrugged. “It’s not my fault you suck at them, Trashykawa.”

Oikawa laughed and startled Iwaizumi. “You’re so mean to me, Iwa-chan. Alright, we’ll go to an arcade, but I want to get ramen afterwards.”

“Okay, sounds like a da—plan! Sounds like a plan.”

Oikawa looked like he wanted to say something, but the bell cut him off. “Ah, let’s head back to class before Sensei yells at us.”

Iwaizumi followed him closely. It felt like the tendrils had loosened a bit, because he was able to breathe a little easier. The nurse’s words rang in his mind. 

He shook his head. The only time he would say anything to Oikawa was when he was on his deathbed, and not a minute sooner. The risk was too high, and just thinking about the possible outcomes made the petals stir.

No, Iwaizumi would not be confessing any time soon. (At least not willingly).

* * *

On Saturday morning, Oikawa spent half an hour getting ready. (Actually, he spent half the night before getting his plans set and only had to do his hair in the morning. In all, it probably took him two hours).

He had a quick breakfast and then walked down the block to Iwaizumi’s house. Iwaizumi’s mom answered the door and let him in. “Hajime is still in his room. He should be out in a minute. Would you like some tea? I have a pot of green tea ready.”

“Ah, yes please. Thank you,” Oikawa said politely, plopping down on the couch in the living room. Green tea would be good for his tender throat. 

She brought him a cup and sat in the recliner across from him. “So, what are your plans for today? I kept asking Hajime, but he wouldn’t say anything.”

Oikawa took a sip of the tea. It tasted exactly like the brand Dr. Fujiwara gave him. “Well, we are going to go to an arcade and then get ramen. We’ll probably go to a park or something afterwards…we have a lot to talk about.”

“I see,” she said with a smile. “I hope you two have fun.”

“Me, too.” Oikawa grinned back.

Iwaizumi walked into the room. “I’m ready to go.”

Oikawa threw back the cup of tea and finished it before getting to his feet. “Thanks for the tea, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Anytime.” She walked with them to the door. “You two be careful, alright? Oh, Hajime, your hat!”

Iwaizumi flushed as she jumped to put an old pom hat on his head. “I’ll be okay, Mom. We’ll be inside most of the time.”

“Nonsense! Here, you put one on too, Tooru!”

“Mom!” Iwaizumi barked.

“Oh fine. Earmuffs, then.”

Oikawa chuckled and took the earmuffs she offered him. Hats always ruined his hair, but earmuffs were alright. “Thanks, Iwaizumi-san.”

“I’m just looking out for you two. Now go, have fun!” She pushed them out and shut the door behind them.

“Iwa-chan’s mom is so nice! You should try to be more like her!” Oikawa exclaimed with a laugh.

“Shut up, Trashykawa.”

“Ah, mean Iwa-chan!” He grabbed Iwaizumi’s gloved hand and started walking. “Come on, we need to hurry or we’ll miss the train!”

“Hey, Oikawa!”

He flinched, hoping Iwaizumi wouldn’t pull away this time. “What is it, Iwa-chan?”

“…Never mind. Let’s go.”

Oikawa smiled, and the tendrils loosened just a little bit. They were off to a good start.

They caught the train and made it to the arcade place in no time. They spent several hours there, and by the time they finished, Iwaizumi had beat Oikawa at every game at least three times. 

Next up was the ramen place. It was a cozy, hole-in-the-wall restaurant they had discovered back in middle school. The ramen was amazing, and decently priced, too. 

They ordered at the register and settled into a two-person booth. Oikawa took off the earmuffs and his winter coat while they waited. He was starting to feel petals tickling his throat from nerves, but the usual pain he felt in his chest had diminished. Maybe spending time with Iwaizumi lessened the symptoms. 

He looked up to say something and immediately started laughing.

Iwaizumi stared at him in confusion. “What? What are you laughing at?”

“Iwa-chan, your hair—” he broke off into laughter. Iwaizumi’s hair was sticking up in all directions from the hat. He looked like he had been electrocuted.

Iwaizumi hurled profanities at Oikawa as he tried to flatten his hair, but everything he did just made it worse.

Oikawa almost fell out of the booth from laughing so hard. “Iwa-chan looks like a pompom!”

“Shut up, Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi growled. He finally gave up and tugged his hat back on. Even then, little tufts of his dark hair poked out in all directions.

Oikawa smiled warmly when his laughs subsided. “Aw, but it looked cute, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi kicked him under the table. “Don’t tease me. I’ll beat you up.”

“I’m not teasing,” he mumbled, and he wasn’t.

If Iwaizumi heard, he didn’t say. However, his cheeks did look a little pinker than usual, and the sight made Oikawa grin.

The waiter brought their orders and they scarfed down their ramen. Playing arcade games for hours took a lot of energy, and Oikawa’s stomach had been growling for the past hour.

He finished first and waited patiently for Iwaizumi to finish. He watched absentmindedly, trying to ignore the rising panic he felt. This would be their second attempt at talking—third if he counted the fight. So far, everything seemed to be going okay, but that didn’t mean the rest of the evening would be smooth sailing. 

“Oikawa, are you ready to go?” Iwaizumi pushed his empty bowl forward and started tugging on his coat.

He coughed lightly and looked up at Iwaizumi. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They got bundled up and headed for the park. It was getting late, and they walked in silence. They couldn’t have talked if they wanted to; both were preoccupied with figuring out what to say.

After milling about for a solid fifteen minutes, they found a bench with a clear view of the quickly darkening sky. (Oikawa insisted on stargazing a bit). They sat close enough for their arms to brush and stared up at the sky. It was cold, so chilly that their breath rose in puffy little clouds, making them both shiver.

Oikawa spoke first.

“Iwa-chan, I’m sorry for dragging you into that mess and for hurting you. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I really regret everything I did.”

“Don’t apologize,” Iwaizumi mumbled, and Oikawa stiffened. “I’m the one who got angry and started the fight. I was just annoyed by all the stuff you were doing. You didn’t seem like…you. It was weird. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, was Iwa-chan jealous?”

“Oikawa…” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Oikawa chuckled. “I will admit that I was serious about her at the time. I really thought she was the one.”

Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa as he gazed up at the sky and let out a bittersweet laugh. The tendrils tightened in his chest and he winced. “Did you love her?”

Oikawa thought for a minute before answering, “No, I don’t think I did. I was in love with someone else; I was just too dumb to realize it.”

“Oh.”

“Look, Iwa-chan! A shooting star!” Oikawa pointed to a light that streaked across the sky. “Did you see it?”

“Ah, I must have missed it.”

“You’ll see the next one!” Oikawa smiled. “Iwa-chan has a good eye for shooting stars!”

Iwaizumi grunted. He highly doubted he would be seeing much of anything, on account of his eyesight being blurred by pain. Oikawa was in love with someone, and it made the thorny tendrils squeeze with an unprecedented fury. He coughed lightly and cleared his throat.

They sat stargazing for half an hour until Oikawa started getting too cold. (He really hated winter). “Come on, Iwa-chan!” He stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go home; I’m freezing!”

“Icykawa?” Iwaizumi chuckled and took his hand.

“Yeah, I’m about to be!” Oikawa grinned and stuck their hands in his pocket. At Iwaizumi’s confused look, he explained, “It’s warmer this way.”

He rolled his eyes but went with it. Oikawa probably picked this up from one of his old girlfriends. The thought made him cough.

Oikawa rambled as they walked, but Iwaizumi wasn’t really listening. He kept thinking about their hands intertwined in Oikawa’s coat pocket, and how he probably wanted to do this with the person he loved.

That had hit him like a ton of bricks. Oikawa, in love with someone?

Iwaizumi coughed again. The tendrils tightened.

He looked at his best friend, his unrequited love. Oikawa was smiling like an idiot, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. The earmuffs were flattening his carefully styled hair, and there was a twinkle in his eye. He was probably thinking about the person he loved.

Iwaizumi coughed once, twice, thrice. 

Oikawa slowed their pace. “Are you alright, Iwa-chan?”

He nodded—what else could he do? —and coughed again, a little harder this time.

Oikawa stopped entirely, looking at him in concern. “You don’t sound okay. Should we go buy something to drink?”

He shook his head between coughs. “Home,” he rasped. “I need to go home.”

“Are you sure?”

Iwaizumi tried to respond, but suddenly he couldn’t breathe. There was a flower in his throat, choking his words. Panic swelled and he doubled over, his whole body shaking as he coughed.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa caught him as his knees gave out and lowered him gently to the ground.

It felt like his lungs were being crushed and he could feel the flower growing in size. This was not good; this was not good _at all._

Iwaizumi coughed, _hard,_ and a flower fell from his lips onto the sidewalk.

Oikawa stared at it in horror.

He thought that was it, that it would be the only flower, but another lump was forcing its way up his throat. He continued choking and gagging until the second flower fell to the ground, staining the sidewalk with blood.

Oikawa still hadn’t said a word.

Iwaizumi felt _another_ flower in his throat, and he spat blood everywhere trying to cough it up.

Finally, Oikawa snapped out of the daze he was in. He dropped to his knees and rubbed Iwaizumi’s back. “Iwa-chan, just try and get the flowers out, okay?” 

That was a no-brainer. But Oikawa seemed unusually calm as he tugged his coat back to make it easier to breathe. Why wasn’t he freaking out?

Iwaizumi coughed up the third flower and started to catch his breath. Oikawa seemed to sense that he was done and hugged him tightly. 

Pain exploded in his chest and stars danced before his eyes. The tendrils were _moving;_ he could _feel_ them spreading outwards. That meant… 

Oh, no. This was _really not good_.

“Iwa-chan? Iwa-chan, can you hear me?” Oikawa was panicking now.

Iwaizumi grit his teeth and opened his eyes, his hands tangling in the front of Oikawa’s coat. He could taste blood in his mouth, and he could barely breathe without gasping in pain. His whole body was tingling.

This was it. This was how he died.

He couldn’t complain too much, if he was being honest. Yeah, it hurt, but Oikawa was _right there,_ holding him close enough for hot tears to drip onto his skin.

“Iwa-chan, look at me!” Oikawa’s voice was frantic, and he heard him choke back a sob.

He looked. 

Snot was dripping from his nose and tears left shining trails down both his flushed cheeks. His eyes were red, and his lips were trembling.

Yet, Oikawa’s face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Iwa-chan, who is it? Please tell me who did this to you!”

“You.”

Oikawa’s face twisted in confusion.

“I love you, Tooru.”

His fingers relaxed and he felt a tendril bump his heart.

And then his world went dark.

* * *

Death was weird, Iwaizumi decided. He had expected some sort of angelic fanfare, or maybe the feeling of hot coals underfoot. But feeling like he was floating in a black expanse, the only sound an annoyingly steady beep, was not what he had anticipated.

What was this, Purgatory?

The beeping got louder and more obnoxious. No, this was definitely some special part of Hell designed to give him traumatic flashbacks of his alarm going off in the mornings. At least he had a personal room in Hell; that was kind of nice.

Something brushed his forehead and he tried to jerk away but found he couldn’t move. At least, not his whole body. If he focused, he could wiggle his pinky finger.

The beeping got louder, and now it was accompanied by a low murmur. He could already picture the disembodied voices belonging to little red demons with pitchforks in their hands, on their way to poke and prod him. The voices started sounding clearer, and he realized one of them sounded disturbingly like Oikawa.

 _Of course,_ he would have a demonic Oikawa to harass him. As if the one he put up with for his entire life wasn’t enough. This just got better and better.

Well, he was in Hell after all. He shouldn’t be so surprised.

A cold touch wrapped around his wrist. Shackles, he imagined. He twitched his pinky, and a few other fingers jerked with it. Maybe…

He tried wiggling his toes, but to no avail. Weird. He went back to moving his fingers.

It felt like time was passing, but he wasn’t sure how fast. The beeps were slow and steady, and getting louder by the second. (Or was it the minute?) The voices were getting louder too, and he was able to make out some words.

“The…and…flowers…coat…” Well, that made total sense.

He listened more closely.

“…hand…chin…Iwa…”

His fingers jerked. No matter who the voices belonged to, it was clear they were talking about him. Although, there were probably a few million other Iwas in Hell, so who knew for sure.

Something warm pressed against his forehead. It was soft, whatever it was, and gentle. It disappeared almost as fast as it had come.

The voices started to fade out—he had counted what sounded like seven distinct tones—and soon all he heard was the beeping. It was driving him mad.

Hell really sucked.

On the bright side, he was finally able to move all his fingers and at least two of his toes. But he was getting bored of just that, so he tried to open his eyes.

His eyelids fluttered but didn’t open all the way. He tried again, and this time they cracked enough for some light to spill in. It was a soft white. Maybe he wasn’t in Hell, but some weird part of Heaven.

It didn’t matter, he wanted to see more.

He focused so hard his head started to ache, and with one last try, he forced his eyes to open.

Iwaizumi found himself staring at a paneled ceiling. He blinked once, twice, but the view didn’t change. He shifted his eyes around, but everything was blurry. He could make out some shapes—a curtain, a chair, and some kind of table—but that was it.

Something stirred to his left. His eyes followed it as it drew closer to him.

It also got clearer, and he quickly recognized the figure.

Oikawa Tooru was standing over him.

Now he really wasn’t sure if this was Heaven or Hell.

“Iwa-chan? Can you hear me?”

He blinked and wiggled his fingers.

“Oh, thank God!” Oikawa squeezed his hand and looked behind him. “He’s awake!”

Awake? If he was awake, then that meant…

“Hajime!” His mother’s face peered down at him, and his father stood behind her.

Iwaizumi blinked again. His whole world spun while he tried to piece everything together.

The last thing he remembered was staring at Oikawa while gardenia tendrils wrapped around his heart. But he didn’t feel them anymore; in fact, he couldn’t feel them at all.

This was so weird. He had definitely died, because Oikawa was his unrequited love, but he felt like he was alive.

Oikawa leaned over him, his fingers sweeping his hair off his face. “Iwa-chan, do you remember what happened?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“You told me you loved me and then you passed out. It was really lame,” Oikawa laughed. “You really scared me, though. An ambulance came and brought you to the hospital. You’ve been out for a few hours.”

Iwaizumi blinked.

“I’m so sorry for what I put you through, Iwa-chan, but you weren’t exactly nice to me either. I coughed up quite a few bouquets of flowers thanks to you.” Oikawa frowned. “But we don’t have to worry about that anymore—Dr. Fujiwara says the disease is gone!”

He moved his hand until he found Oikawa’s. If the disease was gone, then that meant…

Oikawa smiled, his genuine smile. “And it’s all thanks to the power of love!”

If Iwaizumi could’ve groaned and slapped him, he would have. He settled for squeezing his hand really hard instead.

“Ow, Iwa-chan that hurts!” Oikawa whined. “Mean, after I saved your life, too!”

Iwaizumi tried to convey his confusion through his eyes.

Evidently, it worked, because Oikawa asked, “You didn’t hear me the first time? Then I’ll just have to say it again.”

He leaned forward until his breath fanned over Iwaizumi’s ear. “I love you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help the giddy grin that spread across his face. 

Maybe this was Heaven after all. 

* * *

“Oikawa, what the hell is this?”

“It’s exactly what it looks like, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi stared at the box in his hand. “You know I don’t really wear jewelry, right?”

“I know!” Oikawa was giving him that thousand-watt smile and the tips of his ears were red. “But this is special!”

It was special. The box contained a matching set of white gold bracelets that must have cost a fortune. They were simple in design; a chain with a nameplate, each engraved with a name. One read ‘Tooru’ and the other read ‘Hajime.’

“Do…do you not like them?” Oikawa fumbled with the hem of his shirt.

“I like them, I’m just surprised,” Iwaizumi replied, running his fingers over the delicate chains.

“Why would you be surprised, Iwa-chan?”

“I just…” This was a topic he had been hesitant to broach. He swallowed thickly. “We’re about to graduate from college. Start our lives, and all that.”

“Yeah? Iwa-chan, what are you worried about?” Oikawa cocked his head and cupped Iwaizumi’s hands with his.

“You…you’re not thinking about finding a girl? Settling down and starting a family?”

“Don’t be silly, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa smiled lightly, but there was a bite in his tone. “I have you.”

Iwaizumi fidgeted. “Yeah, but—”

“Hajime.” 

He looked up and met Oikawa’s gaze. It was the serious and intimidating one he sometimes got during matches. A chill traveled down Iwaizumi’s spine, freezing him in place.

“We’ve been together our whole lives, and we’ve been dating for the past four years. We went through hell for each other. Why would I throw that all away?”

He flushed, a bit embarrassed. Oikawa had a point, but there was still a voice that nagged him about how much of his life Iwaizumi would be making him miss out on.

Oikawa sighed and pulled one of Iwaizumi’s hands to his lips. “If you’re so worried about it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to his ring finger, “we can always try something else.”

The glint in Oikawa’s eyes made him gulp. He tugged his hand free. “Gross.”

“Eh, mean Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whined.

Iwaizumi slid the ‘Tooru’ bracelet around his wrist. It fit perfectly. “These are nice, but if you’re going to propose, get rings, Trashykawa.”

Oikawa blinked. After a few seconds, a grin split his face. “Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi stumbled as Oikawa jumped on him. “Careful, idiot.”

Oikawa hummed, his arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders.

“You’re heavy.”

He laughed and buried his face in Iwaizumi’s neck. Inhaling deeply, he could still smell traces of gardenia blossoms; it was something that would never completely leave the two of them. But the love that brought the flowers and caused him so much pain had turned into his greatest source of joy. 

And Oikawa wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I love you, Hajime,” the words left his lips and a tear slid down his cheek.

Iwaizumi held him closer, pressing his lips to his temple. “I love you, Tooru.”

Yeah, Oikawa wouldn’t change it for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, I tip my hat to you. I'm impressed. I didn't even read this far, and I wrote the damn story!  
> Well, did it end as you anticipated? Probably. Originally, this was going to be straight angst with a character death. Then Cam yelled at me—"You can't kill Iwa in his own birthday fic!"—so I changed it and threw in the fluff. Ironically, I didn't even finish in time for Iwa's birthday. (Guess I'll just save the angst for a later date).  
> I hope you enjoyed reading this! It was actually pretty fun to write. I plan on doing two more hanahaki AUs like this, so if you thought this one was good, I'm sure you'll like those!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
